


Practically Married

by Dolimir



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolimir/pseuds/Dolimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever been so close to someone that you thought of yourself as practically married?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practically Married

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Lola who gave this puppy a once over even though she is up to her eyeballs in Christmas alligators.
> 
> The only warning: This is a "talking heads" piece. This story was suppose to be an obsenad but it grew too big.
> 
> *-*-*-*-*-*

"Crap! Look at the time. I need to get moving." 

"Are you going to make it, Chief?" 

"Oh, sure. No problem. I'll just do the grocery shopping on the way home." 

"Hey, we need--" 

"I know. Got it on the list." 

"And --" 

"Got it." 

"How about--" 

"No." 

"Come on." 

"I said no. You remember last time." 

"It wasn't that bad." 

"What part of 'Shoot me in the head and put me out of this living hell' is supposed to convince me of that?" 

"Aww, Chief." 

"No, Jim. And quit sighing, you sound like a leaky tire." 

"Can I at least have--" 

"Oh, all right. What flavor?" 

"Cinnamon." 

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you set this whole thing up just so you could get a box of pop tarts." 

"Why, Chief, I'm shocked that you could think so little of me." 

"Uh-huh." 

"How about--?" 

"No." 

"No?" 

"No." 

"But--" 

"You're getting pop tarts, be happy." 

"Well, then, you can't get--" 

"I wasn't going to." 

"Sure you weren't." 

"I wasn't." 

"Don't think I don't know you hid them in the car last time." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Uh-huh." 

"I gotta run." 

"Call me if you're going to be late." 

"I will, but I won't. As soon as office hours are over, I'm out of there." 

* * *

"Blair Sandburg's office." 

"Hey." 

"Hey, yourself." 

"What're you doing?" 

"Waiting for office hours to be done." 

"Been pretty boring?" 

"Yeah. No projects are due this week." 

"Hence no drama." 

"No drama." 

"Well, there's always next week." 

"Oh, yeah. Definite Shakespeare next week when I assign the mid-term. So, bored?" 

"Incredibly." 

"All the paperwork's done?" 

"Yeah, can you believe it?" 

"No. Do you mean all the paperwork is done or your portion of the paperwork is done?" 

"Chief, you wound me." 

"Uh-huh." 

"Actually, I got it all done. I was so bored I did yours too." 

"Hey, thanks, man." 

"There's two reports that need your signature, but other than that it's all done. Why are you laughing?" 

"I was just wondering what my mom's reaction would be if she knew that I had to sign certain police reports in order to make them official." 

"Umm, she'd be proud?" 

"Man... Okay, now say it in a more convincing tone." 

"Hey, I was trying." 

"Yes, you were, detective; and the thought is appreciated. So what do you want for dinner tonight?" 

"Who's turn is it to cook?" 

"Well, since I asked..." 

"In that case, how about the shrimp fettuccini dish you made last month?" 

"Do you have any idea how many calories that has?" 

"A few." 

"Yeah, a few. And the cholesterol?" 

"So, does that mean you won't fix it?" 

"Oh stop with the booboo lip. I'll fix it." 

"How come?" 

"How come?" 

"Yeah, how come?" 

"Because it's been a month since you've had it _and_ you did all my paperwork." 

"So, are you saying if I do your paperwork, you'll feed me fattening meals?" 

"It could be arranged." 

"I may be in love with you, Chief." 

"Yeah, but you just want me for my culinary skills." 

"Well, sure, but that's not the only reason." 

"Oh? There are other reasons?" 

"Perhaps one or two." 

"Like what?" 

"Like what?" 

"Yeah, like what?" 

"Well, I love your brains." 

"My brains?" 

"Well, sure." 

"That's hardly romantic." 

"Was this supposed to be romantic?" 

"Oh, I see, so you love my brains in a brotherly way." 

"No, I don't love your brains in a brotherly way." 

"You don't?" 

"No. I mean, sure. Hell... how do you do that?" 

"Do what?" 

"Get me all flustered." 

"I have no idea what you're talking about." 

"I think you spend nights plotting ways to get me tongued-tied." 

"Damn, my secret's out." 

"And here I thought you were studying in your room." 

"I hate to burst your bubble, man." 

"No, you don't." 

"Hey, I was going for sincere and it sure as hell beat your 'Naomi would be proud' line. You gotta give me that, at least." 

"Yeah, I guess I do." 

"And don't think for a moment I didn't notice the smooth way you changed topics." 

"Hey, I learned at the feet of the master." 

"You don't have to keep buttering me up. I already said I'd make you the fettuccini." 

"I have to keep in practice some way, don't I?" 

"Oh, hey, man, I gotta student. Gotta go. You going straight home tonight?" 

"Yeah. I thought we could watch the game." 

"Cool. See you in a bit." 

"Bye, Chief." 

* * *

"Who's bright idea was it to watch the game?" 

"Why, I believe it was yours, James." 

"Smugness doesn't suit you, Chief." 

"Sure it does. And if the Jags hadn't sucked so bad, I'd even get up and do my smugness dance." 

"Your smugness dance? Have I ever witnessed this little ritual?" 

"Nope. I only do it behind your back." 

"Well, that would explain why I haven't seen it before." 

"Oh, man, don't stop." 

"What? Rubbing your feet?" 

"Uh-hmm. I swear, Jim, you would make a mint as a masseuse. You should give up police work. No one shoots at masseuses." 

"Yeah, but I'd have to touch hairy backs." 

"Oh, thank you for THAT mental picture." 

"You're welcome." 

"Oh, stop your snickering. You sound like Scooby Doo." 

"I do not." 

"Do too." 

"So what does that make you, Shaggy or Scrappy?" 

"You know it frightens me that you know those character names." 

"Hey, I'm culturally hip." 

"Ow! Ow!" 

"You shouldn't laugh at a man who holds your feet in his hands, Junior." 

"Sorry. Sorry. You know, I've changed my mind." 

"About what?" 

"About your being a masseuse." 

"Aw, Chief..." 

"No, Jim, I mean...I don't want to share you with anyone else." 

"Oh, yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"Why's that?" 

"I...uh... I like having you to myself." 

"You do?" 

"Yeah, but don't let it go to your head." 

"Which one?" 

"God! Don't do that! Oh, man, I think I hurt something laughing. Heh heh heh. Oh, man. I needed that." 

"Amused you, did it?" 

"Hell, yes, it amused me. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were flirting with me." 

"Ah, but you know better; don't you, Chief?" 

"Jim?" 

"Yes?" 

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm running my hand up and down your right calf. Why? What do you think I'm doing?" 

"I'm sorry, Jim. I shouldn't have teased you." 

"I'm not mad." 

"Then why--?" 

"Have you ever had the thought that we were already married?" 

"What? Are you crazy?" 

"No. Think about it a moment, Sandburg. We complete each other sentences." 

"Well, we've lived together for four years." 

"You take care of me." 

"But you take care of me too." 

"My point exactly. You watch what I eat. You make sure I don't miss appointments. You ride my ass and keep me from closing up emotionally." 

"But you make sure that I eat and have gas in my car. You always find me when things go wrong." 

"Isn't that what married people do?" 

"Yeah, I guess it is. So what are you saying, Jim?" 

I'm saying: 'Grow old along with me. The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made: Our times are in His Hand who saith "A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid."'" 

"Jim, are you asking me to marry you?" 

"No." 

"No?" 

"I'm asking you to verbally acknowledge the fact we're already married." 

"Oh." 

"Think of it...a lifetime of foot massages." 

"You don't play fair, man." 

"All's fair in love and war." 

"Is this love, Jim?" 

"I think so, cause it sure as hell ain't war." 

"Wow." 

"Wow?" 

"Yeah. Wow." 

"Is that all you have to say, Chief?" 

"No. I mean...you still only get shrimp fettucini once a month." 

"I think I can live with that." 

"And I get the right side of your bed." 

"Of course, it's furthest away from the stairs after all." 

"And this is for ever?" 

"I'm not going to go through another divorce, Sandburg." 

"And you want to do forever with me?" 

"Yes. Haven't I said as much?" 

"Yeah, I guess you have." 

"So, what's going through your brain, Professor?" 

"I'm thinking... I've won the lottery." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"You're positive you _want_ to spend the rest of your life with a neo-hippie, witch-doctor punk?" 

"Yeah, I think I can manage it if you think you can live with a balding, grumpy sentinel." 

"Yeah, I think I do." 

"I do too." 

"Wow." 

"You know, people already think that -" 

"Yeah, but they've thought that from the beginning." 

"So do you --?" 

"Yeah, I think I do." 

"I -" 

"Yeah, me too, Jim. Me too." 

\--End-- 

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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